


Fall Right Into You

by Mirkstrolls (angrennufuin)



Series: First Kiss(es) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fantrolls, First Kiss, Gals being pals, Girls Kissing, POV Second Person, THIS IS A FANTROLL THING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrennufuin/pseuds/Mirkstrolls
Summary: Daaeme rolls over onto her back, wiping her eyes. “Oh, honey. It’s not really as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. Like, I can straight-up guarantee you’re overthinking it.”“Probably,” you agree. “But I mean – everybody else had their first kiss like… sweeps ago, probably. Or, okay, one sweep,” you add, before she can comment. “And now it’s become kind of, like, a big deal, you know? Because I haven’t, and people think that there’s an intentional reason why I haven’t, but like, there isn’t, really?”Written in 2016 for a series of first kiss drabbles. In this installment: bad picnic etiquette. Mood swings. TFW your intimidatingly beautiful bestie offers to be your first kiss because she thinks it's sad you haven't had one yet.Title from Charli XCX's "Boom Clap"





	Fall Right Into You

**Casida Tasend**  
7 Sweeps || 15 Earth years  
_Llunegloirs harbor_

“What do you _mean_ you’ve never been kissed?” Daaeme sits up suddenly, and you squint at her, shielding your eyes at the glare. “You’re _seven_, and you’ve never been kissed?”

You laugh awkwardly, glancing away from her. It’s a rare day that neither of you are working, and you’d brought a picnic out here to celebrate. Finished eating, you’re sprawled on the warm rocks at the harbor’s edge, feet in the cold water, wind tugging at your ponytail and flinging Daaeme’s loose curls into your face. “Are you saying you _have_?”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence in my love life, god. Like, yeah, I’ve been kissed _loads_ of times."

"Like who?"

"Like Hester, first of all." She huffs indignantly. "You remember we scuttled her coracle and her patron made her work double-shifts for a perigee to pay for it? She totally hatesmooched me when I told her I did it.”

“Oh.” Hester had suddenly gone from being a constant nuisance to fairly vibrating with anger and embarrassment whenever she saw you and Daaeme, and you’d never found out why. You guess now you know.

“Yeah, and lemme tell you, she uses _way_ too much tongue. But seriously – you haven’t? With anyone?”

“Nope!” you say, trying for nonchalant but getting stiff instead. “I, uh, there was never an opportunity.”

Daaeme goes suspiciously silent, and you think you hear a muffled snort.

“Don’t hold yourself back on my account,” you say sourly. “Go ahead and laugh.”

She does, though as far as Daaeme-laughs go, it’s not a really mean one. You’re still not looking at her, but you feel her arm brush against yours and hear the slight scraping of cloth on rock as she lies down next to you again. “Sorry, Casida,” she says. “It’s just the way you said it! ‘There was never an opportunity.’ _Really_.”

“Well, there wasn’t!”

“What exactly counts as an opportunity for a kiss, then, huh?”

You put a hand over your eyes. “How am _I_ supposed to know that?” you demand. “Is there like a signal, or–” she’s laughing again, but you continue doggedly, “–or a codeword or, like, semaphore flags like the archerradicators use–”

“_Casida_!” Daaeme’s doubled over on herself now, laughing hysterically.

“Okay, that last one was mostly joking.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and glance at her sidelong. “But no, I just – never, uh. Got around to it.”

Daaeme rolls over onto her back, wiping her eyes. “Oh, honey. It’s not really as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. Like, I can straight-up _guarantee_ you’re overthinking it.”

“Probably,” you agree. “But I mean – everybody else had their first kiss like… sweeps ago, probably. Or, okay, _one_ sweep,” you add, before she can comment. “And now it’s become kind of, like, a big deal, you know? Because I haven’t, and people think that there’s an intentional reason why I haven’t, but like, there isn’t, really?”

“It’s not a big deal, it’s literally just a _kiss_! Here, let me show you.”

“_What_?” __Your stupid face is heating up for no damn reason. “No, I’m not kissing you, you’ve got garlic breath!”

“Oh my god, I can’t _believe_ you, you complain about never being kissed and then when a pretty girl offers, you–”

“I never _complained_–”

“Bull_shit_, you never complained! You’re over here with those big old barkbeast eyes like _Oh, Daaeme, I’ve never been kissed, sadface, weh_. Mixed messages, babe!”

Daaeme’s painted lips are a flat line, she’s rolling her eyes. When she gets like this, you can’t really tell if she’s, like, _actually_ upset or not. You know usually it’s just joking and drama, but sometimes it isn’t, and… it kind of makes your stomach hurt? It’s not even that you don’t want her to kiss you – you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t mind that, unless it changed something about your friendship. But maybe even that wouldn’t be necessarily a bad thing? Not that you’ve, like, thought about this – kissing Daaeme – or anything. But the tone has changed all of a sudden, to something a lot more serious than your earlier jokes… you swallow hard and tighten your ponytail, try to figure out what to say next.

And she notices, because she laughs, and this time it is a little mean. “Oh my _god_, I was _joking_, Cassie. Chill.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, but she waves her hand dismissively.

“It was just a suggestion! Obviously if you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna. Didn’t think it’d make you so uncomfortable, or I’d never have asked.” She’s back to her usually airy self, but you think she sounds a little hurt. Or are you imagining that?

You take a deep breath. Your face and ears burn. “No," you blurt, "it doesn’t – uh, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, I just, I mean, like, you can. If you want to.”

Daaeme opens her mouth like she’s gonna say something like _are you sure_ or _what did I_ just_ fucking say about mixed messages._ This was a bad idea. Why couldn’t you let it go? Your guts are tying themselves in knots as you sit here, and you _kinda_ wanna sink through the rock. But maybe Daaeme senses that, because she just closes her mouth again and looks at you. Really hard.

Then she scoots across the rock towards you and your bloodpusher skips a beat.

It’s not like you aren’t close to Daaeme usually! She was just this close – closer than this – five minutes ago, when you were talking. But the _context_, the context is different, and you can see the streaks of moonscreen on her cheeks and shoulders, the smudged makeup under her eyes. What if she _does_ have garlic breath? What if _you_ do? What if you do something wrong and she thinks you’re gross?

“Casida,” says Daaeme. You can feel her breath on your face when she talks – thankfully not garlicky. Feel the heat radiating off her skin. “Stop overthinking.”

She leans in, and you freeze. You’d swear your pulse is so loud they can hear it back in town. She’s only inches away… she rests her hands on your shoulders… her lips brush yours for just a second...

And then she shoves you right off the fucking rock.

You hit the water before you even have time to scream: when you struggle to the surface again, spitting seawater, Daaeme’s laughing herself sick. “Your _face_,” she howls. “_Ohhh_ my god, you should’ve _seen_ it!”

“Way to _ruin the moment_, bastard!” you yell back, trying to tread water and flip her off at the same time. But mad as you are, something is loosening inside your chest – fucking around with Daaeme is familiar territory. You know it. You’re used to it. The awful hyperawareness of a few seconds ago is gone, and you don’t have to think about what it implied, or how Daaeme’s lips felt on yours.

It takes her a good minute to calm down enough to pull you out of the water, so of course you fling as much of the water from your sodden clothes and hair onto her as you can. She shrieks and pushes you back in: you sling your arms around her waist and drag her with you, yelling “_Vengeance_!” as she yells “_My makeup_!” and then the two of you do your level best to dunk each other.

You’re both laughing and exhausted and shivering by the time the moons start to set and you crawl out onto the rocks again. Daaeme wrings her hair out as you toss used napkins, dirty utensils, and bread crusts back into the picnic basket. “I’d help you carry that back to your hive, but if I don’t, like, _sprint_, I’m gonna be late for voice lessons.”

You shrug, hoisting the basket on your shoulder. “No big deal. I’ve got it.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, Casida?” You look up. She’s grinning wickedly. “We should do this again sometime, yeah?”

Your bloodpusher skips several beats this time. “Y–yeah!” you blurt.

Her grin widens, and then she takes off up the street while you're still putting together what she just said.

_We should do this again sometime_? Do what? Picnic? Swim? _Kiss_? _Dammit, Daaeme._ Why’d she have to make things so _complicated_?


End file.
